


The Scent of a Wolf

by house_of_lantis



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 08:31:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2222400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/house_of_lantis/pseuds/house_of_lantis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why does Peter Hale smell like Chris Argent?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Scent of a Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to my Tumblr: 
> 
> Prompt requested by screaming-towards-apotheosis: Petopher, Chris wearing Peter's clothes.

“Well, boys, what’s it to be tonight? Another viewing of ‘The Notebook’?”

Peter strolled into Derek’s loft, hands tucked into his new Hugo Boss wool pea coat, slightly annoyed that his presence was actually required at the mandatory pack nights that Scott instituted during a rare moment of peace. He had much better plans on a Friday night than to spend it with teenagers.  

For the first time in a long time, Beacon Hills was enjoying a few months of uninterrupted calm. The Nemeton was thriving on the spark that Stiles was sharing with it while rebuilding the ley lines through the town that would shield it from supernatural visitors, all under Deaton’s careful guidance and training to be Scott’s Emissary, and there was nothing noteworthy to take care of during these pointless meetings.

He looked around the loft and sighed to himself; Derek was nesting and filling his space with ever growing new “home décor” from the clearance bins, no doubt, of the local Wal-Mart. There were mismatched lamps situated round the room and an entertainment center that probably cost the same as a Toyota. It was so disappointingly pedestrian; for all their wealth, Derek lived like a dumpster diving, mass production retail hoarding bum.

How were they related?

Frankly, peace was extremely boring; and Peter was itching for some excitement. He was never a good peacetime soldier. As a teenager, he knew that he would stand as Talia’s Second, knew that he would have responsibilities that an Alpha couldn’t shoulder. Pack politics dictated the necessity for someone to do the wet work and Peter was groomed to fill that position perfectly.

It was such a shame that the children couldn’t grasp the concept of having a proper Second. Derek was too soft to have stood as Laura’s Second in the pack. It left a bitter taste in Peter’s mouth that he had to resort to certain  _distasteful_   _necessities_  to salvage what was left of his family’s legacy.

_“We have to start bonding as a pack,” Scott said, looking pointed at Peter. “Work together, not against each other.”_

_“And we plan to do this by meeting regularly in Derek’s uncomfortable loft—“_

_“I bought more throw pillows,” Derek muttered, with a soft growl. Peter thought it was quite comical that Derek clung to his werewolf instincts even as a human. “They’re from IKEA.”_

_Peter suppressed a shudder. IKEA. The suburban haven for the unimaginative. Lovely. “I see.”_

_“We have to learn to trust each other so we’ll be ready if something else comes into town,” Scott said, authoritatively._

_Peter raised his eyebrow at Scott’s use of “if” and not “when.” He thought that was rather naïve of the Alpha. They had won battles, but not the war. It was a pity that Scott wasn’t ready for Peter’s knowledge of wartime strategies._

_Stiles shook his head. “Peter doesn’t have to attend.”_

_Peter was appreciative of Stiles’s consideration. “For once, I agree with him.”_

_“Jesus, Peter, don’t agree with me, it makes me feel dirty.”_

_“Oh, give me a chance, sweetheart,” Peter drawled, laughing as Stiles scrunched up his nose in distaste._

_“Peter, quite flirting with Stiles; and everyone has to attend,” Scott said, puffing up his chest in true Alpha style. Peter sneered; it looked like Scott had picked up on some of Derek’s amusing gestures. “It’s mandatory.”_

_Peter watched as Stiles stared at his best friend, tuning them out as Stiles argued for Peter’s absence. Peter wholeheartedly agreed with the mouthy human; but Scott maintained his decision in the face of Stiles’s arguments, and now, Peter was stuck attending pack meetings on the Alpha’s order._

_Internally, Peter shook his head. How ironic was it that his former beta was now a True Alpha and head of the McCall pack? Where did he go wrong? He should’ve bitten Stiles when he had the chance. Though, Peter might be dead and this entire exercise in futility would be a moot point._

“Why do you smell like Argent?” Scott said, sniffing him as Peter walked past him as he shucked off his coat.

“Whatever do you mean?” Peter said, placing his coat on the back of a nearby chair and walking across the room towards the blue couch. “I’m certain that with the amount of time I spend with all of you, I carry all of your scents on me. It is what makes us pack after all.”

Stiles turned to Scott. “Oh god, is he right? Do I smell like a zombie werewolf?”

Scott smiled, putting his hand Stiles’s shoulder, rubbing it affectionately. “Don’t worry, Stiles, you stink of hormones and me.”

“Bleh, I’m not sure I want to smell like that either.”

Derek frowned at Peter, sniffing at him noisily.

“Do you mind?” Peter said, snottily.

“Are you sure? I can’t smell anything anymore,” Derek said, looking meaningfully at Scott.

Peter thought it was hilarious that Derek was so supportive of Scott, such brotherly concern for the new Alpha, so determined not to let Scott make the same mistakes that Derek did.

 _Tsk, tsk, tsk,_  Peter thought,  _your boy crush is so sickeningly obvious, nephew._  

“Well, yeah, sort of,” Scott said, sniffing again. He leaned towards Peter and nearly buried his nose against Peter’s neck. Peter fought the urge to pet him. “I can’t figure it out, it just smells kind of musky and…like Argent.”

“At least buy me dinner before you scent me,” Peter said, smirking.

Scott backed away. “Ugh.”

Stiles let out a sigh. “Dude, that’s kind of—“

“Invasive?” Peter said, sitting down.

“I was going to go with gross.”

Peter crossed his ankle over his knee, watching the others with an amused expression on his face.

“Okay, Uncle Creeper, what did you to do Argent? Did you kill him? Did you eat him? What?” Stiles said, crossing the room to stand near him. “Finally showing your true colors, huh, Pete?”

“Firstly, if you call me Pete again, I will—“

Scott coughed, interrupting him.

“—will be very displeased with you,” Peter corrected, nodding his head at Scott.

“Oh, I’m so scared,” Stiles said, faking a dramatic shudder of fear.

“And secondly, I did not  _eat_  Christopher Argent. Well, not in quite the manner that you mean.”

“What does  _that_  mean?” Stiles said, making a face. “How else would I  _mean_  it?”

Peter stared at him and then sighed. “Frankly, I have no idea what it is that my daughter sees in you, Stiles.”

“And I can’t believe she’s actually related to you, so, we’re even,” Stiles hissed, then stopped, narrowing his eyes. “Actually, I take that back. I can believe she’s actually related to you. It’s like she inherited some of your bizarre personality traits. We’re trying to wean her off the weird Hale vibe.” He turned to Derek. “No offense.”

Derek rolled his eyes in response.  

“Are you insinuating something, Stiles?” Peter drawled, silkily. “And be mindful that you are talking about my daughter.”

“Stay away from Malia,” he said, pointing his finger at Peter. “Don’t try to warp her mind. Well, any more than it already is warped, that is.”

Peter growled at him, letting his eyes glow electric blue. “Don’t insult her.”

“Hey! Don’t flash your eyes at him,” Scott said, stepping between them, his eyes Alpha red.

Peter wouldn’t have normally backed down; there was nothing about Scott’s Alpha status that threatened him. In fact, the boy was lucky that Peter hadn’t slashed his throat open with his claws to take back what rightfully belonged to him.

“Peter, let it go,” Derek told him. “Scott, just leave it.”

“See! This is why we shouldn’t have him at our pack meetings,” Stiles said, throwing his arms in the air. “All we end up doing is having these stupid, petty fights – and it’s because he’s fucking bored! He wants to get us all riled up so he can have his little fun.”

Peter was surprised; it was rare that someone could actually point out exactly what Peter was doing.

“Just stop whatever it is that you’re doing,” Scott chided at him. “You’re supposed to be the grown up here and—“

Chris slid open the door to the loft and stopped, staring at the four of them.

Stiles snorted, walking away in disgust. “We should’ve just killed him when we had the chance.”

“Am I interrupting something, gentlemen?”

They just stared at Chris. He closed the door to the loft and walked further into the room.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing, we’re just trying to get Peter to stop playing his stupid mind games with us,” Stiles said, waving his hand at Peter and heading into the kitchenette. “You deal with him, Argent.”

Chris stood next to Scott and raised his eyebrow. “Scott?”

“Just got carried away. We were just trying to figure out why Peter smells like you.”

Peter smiled at Chris, letting his eyes move up and down at his leisure. He did enjoy looking Christopher Argent over quite thoroughly. “Yes, Christopher, why don’t you enlighten the children with reasons why I would be wearing your scent.”

Scott sniffed the air, a puzzled expression on his face. He leaned closer to Chris and sniffed at him.

“Actually, um, don’t take this the wrong way, but you kind of smell like…” Scott said, his eyes widening. He covered his nose with both of his hands.

Stiles ran back into the room and reached out, dragging Scott’s hands away. “What? What’s wrong?”

Scott blushed, not making eye contact. “Just let it go, Stiles.”

“Why? What the hell is going on?” Stiles said, hands on hips as he glared at Peter and then at Chris.

Peter laughed, throwing back his head against the couch. “You’re such a child, Stiles. I really do enjoy you.”

“Gross times infinity, Uncle Weirdo.”

“Maybe it’s better if we didn’t know,” Derek said, trying for diplomacy.

Peter could tell that Derek probably had already figured it out, even without his werewolf senses. There were a lot of things that often went over Derek’s head or that he just systematically ignored what was right under his nose, so to speak. Peter was certain that Derek had scented Christopher Argent on him, and Peter on Chris, numerous times before he lost his werewolf powers.

“I think we need to clear the air,” Stiles said, nodding fervently. “If we’re going to start doing this bonding and pack trust thing, we shouldn’t keep secrets from each other.”

Peter met Chris’s gorgeous blue eyes. “Yes, darling, why don’t we spill all of our secrets to the children.”

Scott made a face. “Darling?”

Derek rolled his eyes and huffed out an exasperated sigh. “Shit.”

“Don’t fucking call us ‘children,’ Peter,” Stiles growled at him.

It was rather an impressive growl, but there was no power behind it. It really was unlucky that Peter hadn’t given him the bite while he still could.

Well, maybe that was for later.  

Chris stared at him for a long moment and took a breath, turning to the others. “It’s probably because Peter and I had sex about four hours ago and he took off with my shirt so I had to wear one of his. As for him, he probably didn’t bother taking a shower. Any other questions?”

_Silence._

Peter laughed so hard that his eyes started to tear up.

**THE END.**

Author’s Note: Thanks to [screaming-towards-apotheosis](http://screaming-towards-apotheosis.tumblr.com/) for the awesome Petopher prompt. It’s probably not the direction you were expecting, but for some reason, Peter absolutely refused to let me write porn about him right now. He insisted on all this backstory. LOL. 


End file.
